


Unexpected

by DaisyFairy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, F/F, Infidelity, M/M, Slow To Update, Why do I need a title Anyway?, argument, mystrade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-06 22:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8771959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyFairy/pseuds/DaisyFairy
Summary: Greg Lestrade's marriage is falling apart, as he tries to cope with the changes in his life he unexpectedly receives help from Mycroft Holmes. As he begins to move on he realises that his relationship with Mycroft is becoming something that he never would have expected.Tags and rating to be updated with future chapters.





	1. Helicopter

**Author's Note:**

> I have had the beginning of this sitting on my computer for ages. I have various other scenes written, but unfortunately they do not quite fit together yet and this is nowhere near finished.
> 
> I do intend to complete this story but the updates will be very sporadic, I just wanted to get the start of this out there before series 4 hits.
> 
> Writing in Italics is text messages.

Greg is visualising a warm beach, blue skies, white sand, and cocktails with little umbrellas. It would all be going quite well if his wife would just shut up for two seconds. He had listened the first two times, but on the third round of “blame Greg” he is trying his hardest to tune her out.

In reality he is sitting in his car on a mountain in bloody Wales in the pissing rain waiting for the AA to come and rescue them. Carol is going on in a never ending rant about how they are going to miss her sister’s wedding, how he should have taken the car to the garage to be checked out like she told him and how every fucking thing in the whole world is his fault. Yes she had told him to take it to the garage, said it had “clonked” when she drove it to Sainsbury’s last week, but it is hardly his fault that a lunatic had gone on a killing spree with a machete, what should he do? Just let him keep on killing and tell the families of those killed that it is all ok because at least his car is fixed?

She keeps asking what is wrong with the car, how the hell should he know? Could be transmission, spark plugs, or maybe the bloody magic unicorns have run out of fairy dust for all he knows. Now he has resorted to just trying to “mmm” every so often to give the impression he actually cares, if he lets himself make more of a response than that it will lead to a screaming match, and with nowhere to go to escape that could end up escalating quickly. The main source of his tension of course is that he knows she has been cheating, but had hoped that this weekend away maybe they could work some things out and make a go of it. Now he is wondering why he wanted to bother. This is not the time to bring these things up though, the kids are in the back and he hates to row in front of them. At the moment they are both plugged in, his daughter Amy is 15 and is currently chatting with her friends on some website or other; and Jack, just turned 13, is playing some game on his phone, thank god there is at least network coverage here. However it is going to be at least 3 hours before rescue comes and the two of them eat like gannets, some time soon the inevitable moans about being hungry will start, along with the nightmare to come when the batteries on their phones run out. Greg can feel a migraine starting.

Suddenly the wind starts to pick up, whipping the rain into the car even harder than before. A strange thump thump sound from overhead seems to be getting louder too. Peering out of the windscreen Greg can see a jet black helicopter coming down to land on the hillside nearby. Suddenly his phone chirps a text alert at him.

_You are welcome. Your car will be brought to the wedding venue this evening. MH_

What the hell.

“Greg. Greg. GREG!” He turns, realising that Carol has been trying to get his attention, maybe a bit too good at tuning her out. “What is that doing here?” she says pointing out of the window.

“I think it is here for us.” He says slightly stunned. Why is Mycroft sending them a helicopter?

Two men dressed all in black that looks suspiciously like some kind of Special Forces uniform come running out and towards the car. Greg opens the door as they approach and one of them says “Mountain rescue. We were sent by the AA to take you on to your destination; someone will come and sort out the car. Please come with us.”

“You don’t look like mountain rescue.” Carol replies.

“It’s ok, I just got a text from the AA saying to expect a helicopter.” He lies through his teeth, how could he explain that the man he had told his wife works as a minor civil servant for the ministry of transport had sent them a helicopter? “Just give us a minute.” he says to the man outside standing in the rain.

Greg starts chivvying the kids getting them to gather up their belongings, as he gets the bags from the boot. Amy is obviously interested in the ‘copter, but is trying to maintain her teenage apathy by appearing bored. Jack at the few years younger is almost vibrating with excitement at flying to the wedding, having yet to realise that as a teenager his main job is to be almost impossible to impress.

Carol is gathering her things from the front, now moaning about how the rain and wind from the chopper is going to ruin her hair.

_I could arrange for her to be left with the car. MH_

Greg laughs under his breath at the text, huddling under the boot lid whilst he reads. One of the “mountain rescue” has come to take a few of the bags for him, whilst the other is ushering the kids into the chopper.

_Why did you send a helicopter? And how did you know anyway?_

_It wouldn’t do to have our favourite Detective Inspector involved in a murder suicide would it? MH_

_And I have my methods. MH_

Greg heads back to the front of the car to get his wallet from the door pocket. While he is there is has a quick look around the dash board, peering into the air conditioning vents and under the dash.

You won’t find it. _MH_

“You git.” He mutters under his breath, but finds it hard to get too angry with someone who has rescued him from the hell he was in 10 minutes earlier. True he will still be with his wife, but hopefully her mood will improve when they get to the wedding, and he has always got on ok with her sister, plus there will be plenty of alcohol so if all else fails he can sloshed.

 --------------------------------

Once on the ‘copter Greg actually feels a tug of excitement in his stomach, he has never been in one of these before, however this is soon tempered by Carol starting up her litany of complaints. Why is it so bumpy? The sound is giving her a headache. Her hair is wrecked. All of this alternating with telling Greg how good it is that they will get there in time, no thanks to him, and that it is just as well she had organised AA cover for the car rather than the other breakdown cover company that he had wanted to go with, because obviously only the AA would have organised this kind of treatment.

_We could always arrange for her to accidentally fall out. MH_

At this Greg has to stifle a laugh. What is going on? He has dealt with Mycroft before, but it was always in relation to Sherlock, and he had never shared anything more than polite pleasantries with the man.

_Better not, the kids are here._

_Of course. Enjoy the wedding. MH_

“Who are you texting?” Carol asks accusingly.

“Oh, Holmes.” He replies, knowing that she will assume that he means Sherlock “Just finishing off some details from that machete case.”

 

\-------------------------

Once at the wedding venue, a large country house/hotel in the middle of nowhere, things seem a little brighter. They have managed to check in and are actually earlier than they had planned. The kids are both still on their phones in the room adjoining theirs, and Carol is busy fixing her hair and make up, so Greg decides to go and check the place out.

…

He has spent the last hour wandering around the house, the bar was not due to open until after the ceremony so his hopes for a fortifying beer had been thwarted. He had chatted with some of the other guests, several of them were members of Carol’s extended family and family friends, and after almost two decades married to her they feel almost as much a part of his family as his own family did. The helicopter landing in the grounds was the main topic of conversation, and several times he had to try to convince people that it had been mountain rescue sent by the AA.

_Everyone here is convinced that I am a spy. They will not believe me that your creepy black chopper belongs to mountain rescue. Invest in better camouflage next time._

A few minutes later Greg receives a reply.

_If you give me some notice next time you plan on being stranded on a mountain I will see what I can do. MH_

\-------------

 

The wedding is starting in 10 minutes so Greg goes to take his seat. Carol and the kids are already there and have saved him a place. The ceremony goes without a hitch, Carol’s sister Susan looks so happy with her new husband that something inside Greg feels like it will break. To think that he had once felt that for Carol. He examines his feelings and realises that all that is left between them is habit and the kids. Although he can still see some of the things that he once loved about her, she is still beautiful, and they still share a love of the same films and same sense of humour, he no longer trusts her. He had wanted to try to forgive the affair, but he just cannot bring himself to care about her the way he used to, the way he should, and cannot even conceive of having the energy to try to get back to how they should be. It was probably the long hours that did it, working so much that she had felt no option but to find comfort elsewhere. He supposes he should take his share of the blame, but then she could have talked to him. Perhaps nothing could have been done, but maybe he could have made some changes, handed off some work to Donovan, made sure to come home early a little more often, but instead she had just gone straight to sleeping with that man.

Greg doesn’t know his name, doesn’t want to. He knows though. She had suddenly seemed lighter, some days he would get back and she seemed almost happy. She had started doing her hair different, then she had a new necklace. She claimed she had had it for years, but he is a detective, did she really think he was that dense. When she had changed the sheets on their bed three times in one week he had known for certain, not just sleeping with someone, but in their bed. That had been two weeks ago and since then he had found every excuse he could think to avoid sleeping in the bed, “accidentally” falling asleep on the sofa, or having to stay so late at work he might as well sleep on the small couch in his office. He had not confronted her, had hoped that he could avoid that but that maybe just being away together things could have been good enough that she would call it off with what’s-his-name. Now he is beginning to feel that it is pointless.

After the meal Greg goes with Carol to offer their congratulations to Susan and Antony. They seem so content with each other, this is the second time ‘round for both of them. Greg has no idea what happened with Anthony’s first wife, having only met him a few times, but he knows that Susan’s first husband had left her for some woman from his office. After exchanging some pleasantries about the service they move on, Susan seems very cool towards Carol, and then he notices a look of sympathy shot in his direction from Susan as she heads to the dance floor. It is then that he realises that Susan knows, and is actually on Greg’s side in this, looking around he can’t help but wonder how many other people here know about the sad state of his marriage. Without another word to his wife Greg goes to the bar and resolves to get absolutely bladdered so that he can stop thinking about his life for a while.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I did say updates on this one would be slow :-)

The morning arrives to find Greg asleep in the bar of the hotel, he wakes slowly, blinking into awareness as he hears the sounds of the cleaners beginning the tidying up operation. He blearily looks at a clock on the wall and makes out that it is just gone 7:30am. One of the old ladies who has been picking up glasses comes over to him with a glass of water, telling him to drink up, he thanks her and tries to drink it, but feels his stomach rebelling against the liquid so stops after a few sips. He can vaguely remember drinking until the room had swayed around him, and then continuing to drink, refusing all offers to help him to his room, and insisting to the bar staff that he didn’t mind sleeping in the arm chair. He stretches, feeling in his muscles and joints the pain of having slept in such an uncomfortable position, not to mention the headache that is beginning to settle in behind his eyes. He realises that as he only stopped drinking a few hours ago he is probably still drunk and that the hangover is only going to get worse. “Shit, I am too old for this” he thinks to himself, before forcing a few more sips of water down.

 

He slips into his room as quietly as he can, not really wanting to see Carol but not wanting to face the kids if they knew he had spent the night downstairs. He creeps into the bed, believing Carol to be asleep, in the dim light diffusing through the curtains he can’t really see, so he yelps in an undignified manner when she speaks to him.

 

“Where did you stay last night? What was all of the drinking like a teenager about?”

 

Greg just grunts, he is too drunk for this conversation, just wants to sleep and pretend that his life is normal for a bit longer.

 

“Sharon cornered me last night, when you were trying to explain to my Aunt Vivian how you weren’t drunk and then tripped over your own feet and fell on the floor.” Ah, that would explain the pain in his hip that felt like a new bruise. “She thinks you are having some kind of mid-life crisis.”

 

Greg mumbles “It was a party I just got a bit carried away. Can we leave it please?”

 

“No. You embarrassed me in front of my family, and where _did_ you sleep?”

 

“Are you accusing me of something?” He replies, his voice dripping with venom now, but still quiet, almost a whisper as they lay beside each other on the bed, not touching, the gap between them feels like a chasm.

 

“I don’t know, should I be?” She hisses.

 

“Oh God! How dare you even ask me that?” Greg growls, trying very hard to keep his voice down so that the children in the adjoining room don’t hear.

 

 

Carol doesn’t get to reply as Jack knocks twice on the door and bursts in, desperate for breakfast in the way that only a teenage boy going through a growth spurt can be.

 

 

\--~~--

 

A few days after getting back from the wedding Greg is at the scene of a double murder in a half empty warehouse, Sherlock dancing around looking at the floor, ceiling, windows, seemingly everywhere but at the bodies, and generally insulting everyone within earshot. John is crouching by one of the corpses examining the gunshot wound.

 

Greg muses about how comforting this feels, this is his life, this has not changed, even if outside work everything is falling apart. Who is he outside of this if he is not a husband? Things have settled back into a normal routine at home, though Greg has been sleeping on the sofa again, telling the kids that he wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t sleep properly. He really can’t see any way back for him and Carol, but has not yet been able to do anything about it.

 

Suddenly Sherlock stops his weaving around the room, comes over and peers at Greg. It is not the first time he has had that focus trained on him, but he has never gotten used to it and a squirms under the weight of the gaze.

 

“What are you doing?” asks John, trying to pull Sherlock away.

 

“Why are you still wearing that ring? It is ridiculous. I told you she was cheating and you have obviously decided to end things, just take it off and stop brooding, then you might actually be able to **see** what is going on here.” He gestures behind him at the crime scene.

 

Greg tries, he really does, to hold back his temper, he so wants to punch the tall man, but he settles for giving him a hard shove away, sending him stumbling, and then turning on his heel. Shouting over his shoulder to John “Deal with him! I am going to leave Donovan in charge.” he pushes open the door of the warehouse and leaves as fast as he can.

 

\--~~--

 

It is a few more days before Greg has a chance to talk to Carol on their own. Either he is at work, she is out (he is trying not to think about where she might be) or the kids are in the house. However on Sunday Greg has the day off and the kids have both gone off to their friends’ houses. He comes down in the morning to find Carol sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee and reading the paper, he makes himself one and sits down at the table with her.

  
"So, what are we doing?"  


"Drinking coffee it looks like." She says sounding irritated to be interrupted.  


"You know what I mean. I know you are seeing someone else." He says, trying to keep his voice calm.  


"Hmm." She says, looking back at the paper.  


"You're not even trying to deny it." He says incredulous.  


"What would be the point?" she says "It's not like you gave me much choice, you're never here, what am I supposed to do? Just stay here keeping your bed warm?" She asks her voice rising.  


"I am working!" He shouts "Doing important work saving lives, and bringing home the money to keep a roof over our heads."  


"From what I hear that junkie does most of your work nowadays. You just call him and he comes running ready to solve it all for you. Is that why you inflicted him on us all those years ago, you saw how you could use him to do your job for you."  


Greg's mouth hangs open in shock, where the hell is all this coming from. "What do you mean inflicted him on you?"  


"Always forcing me to let him stay here."  


"That was twice, two nights total."  


"And he was always dropping round unannounced, high as a kite."  


"It wasn't that many times."  


"The kids were so small, what the hell was I supposed to say to them?"  


"They were in bed most of the times he came round."  


"It wasn't safe, I came in once to find Jack sitting on his lap, that junkie was totally out of it ."  


“Don't you dare, don't you fucking dare suggest that I would ever have put our children at risk."  


"He could have done anything, Jack was so small, that junkie could have killed him."  


"Stop calling him that, you know his name. I was in the next room getting Amy a drink, and Sherlock was singing him a nursery rhyme."  


"He was high!"  


"Oh shut up! Even high I would trust him with my life."  


"But not the kids!" She yells.  


"So that's it, that's your excuse is it. I work long hours and almost ten fucking years ago I helped a friend to get clean, and so your response to this is to fuck another man. In my bed!" He is yelling at the top of his voice now.  


She actually looks a little abashed about that "It wasn't meant to happen here, but yes, I have been seeing someone else."  


"So, are you planning on running off with him then?" Greg shouts.  


"God no, he's good for a shag, much better than you, but no."  


"So I'm just supposed to put up with it am I?"  


"What do you care? You can barely get it up these days anyway, you might as well let me have some fun."  


"Maybe that's got more to do with the bitch I share my bed with." He said coldly. "I'll just get a bag and I'll be gone, I'll come back for the rest of my stuff later."  


"And you're just going to abandon me and the kids are you?"  


"No you whore," he yelled " I will provide for them, they can even come and live with me if they want once I have found somewhere, don't you ever accuse me of that." Greg picks his mug up and just about stops himself from throwing it across the room, instead he slams it into the sink, breaking the handle off. He sweeps out of the room, slamming the door behind him and goes upstairs quickly packing a bag with some toiletries and a couple of changes of clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this will be finished, but again, next update might be a while coming. Sorry.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft to the rescue (again).

Greg leaves the house with his bag and then realises he has no way to leave. His car is in the garage to be checked over properly after the temporary fix the AA had done. Donovan has been giving him lifts to and from work, but he really doesn't want to call her now. With no taxis around this far out of town he resigns himself to walking to the bus stop, when a large black car pulls up with blacked out windows. "What the hell?" He mutters to himself, as the rear window opened to reveal Mycroft Holmes inside.

"Would you like a lift anywhere Gregory?" Mycroft enquires politely.

"No, fuck off!" Greg replies, walking quicker towards the bus stop.

The car keeps pace as Mycroft says "I had reports of an altercation at your residence. It seems that you are in need of accommodation. I could arrange something for a few nights."

Greg stops and opens the car door "Come out here." He says in a dangerous tone.

Mycroft steps out of the car and stands waiting patiently in front of the DI.  
"Are you fucking telling me you have surveillance in my house." He yells, standing only inches away from Mycroft, spittle sprays from his mouth onto the government official's tie . The driver's door opens and a huge man steps out wearing a smart suit just barely hiding large muscles, he steps towards Greg threateningly. 

Greg is so angry that this is looking very good, a chance to punch someone, get into a real ruck with someone who can fight back. There was too much adrenaline in his system to register that the bodyguard is at least a foot taller than him with muscles twice the size of his, was at least a decade younger and most likely had special forces training. Greg turns towards the younger man raising his fists, but Mycroft shakes his head at the bodyguard and he slips back into the car closing the door behind him.  
Greg, finding himself suddenly with no opponent, rounds on Mycroft and pushes him against the car pinning him. 

"You have no right to interfere in my life. I should have told you off after the camera in the car, but this, this is too much." He slams his fist into the car door right next to Mycroft's arm. He is panting now and wants to rip the condescending look off of the man's face.

The driver's door begins to open again but Mycroft calls out "That will not be necessary Williams." and the door closes. He pushes against Greg, who relents and lets him move away from the car. Mycroft pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabs at the spittle on his tie.

"The surveillance is purely for your protection. As you are associated with my brother there are risks that would not normally be involved in your occupation, as such I would feel responsible if anything untoward were to happen to you." He explains. Greg huffs at this, it is hard to argue with that.

"There were reports of raised voices in your house, there was deemed to be a danger of violence so it was flagged up to me. I reviewed the footage and realised that there was no danger of you physically attacking her, but as I was passing I thought I would stop to ask if you need any assistance." 

Greg is seething again now, "So you, what, have people watching my every move, watching my wife and children? Christ, you probably saw that bastard when he came by to fuck my wife. What do you do, put it on when you're bored? The Gregory Lestrade show, to laugh at my failing marriage, and how apparently I can't even manage to keep her happy in bed." He is practically screaming right into Mycroft's face now, and he suddenly realises that tears are streaming down his face.

Mycroft seems total unshaken by Greg's anger and says in a calm voice "Gregory, please get in the car. You are making a scene in front of your neighbours. Please let me help." 

Greg can't hold it together anymore, he is shaking as he nods his head briskly. 

Mycroft call to the driver "Williams, please help the Detective Inspector with his bags." 

The driver’s door opens and the large man steps out again, this time seeming much more like a chauffer. He takes Greg's bags and puts them in the boot while Mycroft ushers Greg into the car. The two men sit on opposite sides of the car, Greg shaking and sobbing in response to the adrenaline and shock of what is happening.

"The Whitehall apartment please Williams" Mycroft says, passing his handkerchief to Greg. The car pulls away, and Mycroft makes sure that he is looking out of the window rather than at Lestrade, although the reflections in the darkened glass give him a good view of the grey haired man trying to pull himself together.

\-----

Greg spends the rest of the day sitting in the upmarket apartment where Mycroft had dropped him feeling sorry for himself. The flat is empty, furnished but with no personal possessions cluttering it up, like a show home. Someone had come in and stocked the kitchen with tea, coffee and the makings for lunch 20 minutes after Mycroft had left, but Greg could not stir himself to move to get anything to eat or drink. 

Almost twenty years of marriage, gone. He thought he had been prepared, but now realises that he had been holding out hope that she would say he was wrong, come up with some reasonable explanation. Or that she would admit it but beg forgiveness, and that they could work it out. What was he going to do now? Where was he going to go? He makes a good wage, but trying to keep up the house for the kids and pay for a flat at London prices he will probably end up in some disgusting bedsit. The kids will hate him, he can't tell them what their mum had done, much as he hates her now he can't do that to them, so they are bound to blame him for leaving.

He sits staring out of the window, the same thoughts going around his head until it begins to get dark. He barely reacts when he hears the front door open again, it is not his flat after all, so what does he care who comes in?

"I brought food Gregory. I expect you are hungry." Mycroft calls as he goes into the kitchen carrying takeaway bags. 

Greg hears plates and cutlery being moved, and can smell the food Mycroft is taking out of the bags. He is suddenly ravenous, having not eaten since the previous evening, and that had just been a ham roll grabbed at his desk while working late. He goes to the kitchen to find Mycroft putting what looks like very high end Italian restaurant food onto plates, apparently a normal Chinese takeaway won't do for Mr Holmes. 

"Go and wash up, I’ll bring the food to the dining room." says Mycroft as he busies himself finding mugs and turning on the coffee machine.

Greg goes to use the bathroom, splashing water onto his face and smoothing down his hair to try to make himself presentable. He has already made enough of a spectacle of himself for one day, so is determined to act like a grown man now, rather than a toddler throwing a tantrum as he did this morning.

Joining Mycroft at the table he says "I could do with a beer right about now, or a good whisky."

"I really don't think alcohol is a good idea tonight, do you?"

Greg ignores the question, tucking into the mouth-watering food on his plate. "I'm still angry with you you know." He says between mouthfuls.

Mycroft sighs, "Yes, but the surveillance is necessary, I assure you."

They eat in silence for several minutes, until they have nearly finished the food on their plates and Greg's hunger has abated a little.

"Why are you here Mycroft? What is in it for you? And why did you bring me here? What is going on?"

"Gregory, we have known one another for almost a decade, since you were instrumental in stopping my brother from killing himself with drugs, when he was unwilling to come to me for help. It seems that now that you are in need of help I am the one in a position to offer assistance."

"So you owe me do you?" Greg says bitterly. "Well I will stay tonight, then I can stand on my own two feet, you can consider your debt paid in full and stay the hell out of my life." Greg’s voice gets louder as his anger begins to rise again.

"Is it really me that you are angry with? Please do not cut off your nose to spite your face. This flat is lying empty while we are between ambassadors, you may as well make use of it for a few days at least."

Greg relents a little, it is true that most of his anger is really aimed at Carol, Mycroft is just a convenient target. "I still want whisky." he says petulantly, his resolve to act like an adult crumbling.

Mycroft sighs again and pulls out his mobile, tapping quickly to send a text "Very well, I have a rather nice cheesecake in the kitchen that I’m hoping you will share with me, my assistant will be here momentarily with whisky."

\-----------------

After they have finished the cheesecake Mycroft goes back into the kitchen and begins washing the plates and cutlery, Greg stands in the doorway and stares at him.

"May I enquire what is so interesting?" Mycroft asks.

"You, doing the washing up. I never thought of you doing anything domestic."

"Well, I will admit that most of the time I have people to do this kind of thing for me, my time is rather valuable, but I am not totally helpless."

Greg finds a tea towel in a drawer and starts drying the dishes, this is one of the most surreal experiences of his life. They have just finished when the door opens and a smart young woman walks in with a bottle of vintage whisky, she hands it to Mycroft and says "Sir?"

"That will be all, thank you" he replies, and she turns on her heel and leaves.

With the washing up completed Mycroft takes the whisky and retrieves some crystal tumblers from a sideboard. He takes a seat in one of the armchairs flanking a small side table and indicates that Greg should take the other armchair.

“For the record Gregory, I really think that alcohol is not a good idea.” Mycroft says as he pours a large measure into each of the glasses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So another chapter in this erratically updated fic, next chapter coming...sometime :-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A look at Mycroft's point of view.

They drink largely in silence for some time, Mycroft being careful to only have 2 glasses, however Greg refills his at least six times, each time filling the glass higher. Eventually he starts talking, or rather babbling almost incoherently about Carol and how he still loves her and would forgive her if she would only apologise.

Mycroft tunes him out and mentally reviews the situation. He cannot stand any more of this, why would Gregory ever forgive that woman for betraying him? 

Contrary to what Gregory thought the surveillance in his home and car were very rarely accessed, only if they had reason to believe the DI was being targeted or was otherwise in danger. The automatic monitoring system would sound an alarm if certain keywords were spoken, or if gunshots were heard but it had actually only been triggered a few times in all of the years it had been in place. 

The mountainside rescue had, as he told Gregory, come about due to the GPS transmitter in the car alerting Mycroft to a potential situation. If when he had checked the footage all had been well he would have left Gregory to his own devices. However when he checked he could not bear the way that his wife had been berating him and felt an irresistible need to intervene. The Special Forces helicopter being on a nearby training exercise had been a happy coincidence, and he appeased his conscience at taking advantage of them by telling himself that it was good for them to practice an extraction.

Since the obvious tension in the Lestrade household came to light he had ordered the surveillance to be stepped up. He could see that the wife was attempting to goad Gregory into an argument, possibly so that she could put the blame on him for ending their marriage, and it seemed obvious to Mycroft that she was having an affair.   
He had personally reviewed some of the recent footage that had been recorded and had seen the man that she had taken to the marriage bed. A horrible skinny looking man, as soon as he had realised what he was seeing he had shut the screen off, unable to stand watching his friend's betrayal. He felt an urge to order an identification check on the man, and to make the man's life truly miserable as can only be achieved by someone in Mycroft's unique position, but he restrained himself, it is not his place to take revenge for the acts of infidelity.

He had however ordered that the alert level be lowered for the surveillance, any sign of raised voices was to be flagged up and checked, first by an assistant, and if an argument was in progress by Mycroft himself as soon as possible. If Gregory was provoked enough Mycroft was worried that he could become violent. Normally he would never suspect the man of hitting a woman, but she did seem especially skilled in insulting the DI, and under a never ending onslaught of that anyone could eventually be driven to violence. He has no real compassion for the woman, but he knew that Gregory would never forgive himself if he did hit or frighten her, so Mycroft was ready to intervene if it seemed that it was likely to occur. 

Now things have come to a head, thankfully without violence, but still Gregory is muttering about taking her back.

“M’be iz my fault. I work...” he waves his hand as if trying to capture the word that has escaped him, “..lots.”

Mycroft is unsure whether to intervene in that train of thought, to reassure Gregory that his wife cheating is not his fault, but he quickly realises he doesn’t need to when Gregory continues.

“Fuck her! F’cking...fucking bitch. She told me to get the...” he stalls again and seems to almost drop off to sleep, then wakes with a start and picks up where he left off, “she told me, get the.. more job, thing...Promotion! Yes, prom’tion. She wan’ed it. She did!” At this pronouncement Greg’s eyes drop closed and his head rests on his shoulder. He is still murmuring to himself but Mycroft cannot make out the words, something for which he is immensely grateful.

Mycroft helps him out of the armchair and guides him to the master bedroom, Gregory is unsteady on his feet and uncoordinated so Mycroft settles for laying him on the bed on top of the sheets and retrieving a blanket from the cupboard to cover him, and Greg falls asleep nearly the instant he lays down. He fetches a glass of water and some painkillers and puts them on the bedside table and writes a note that he leaves next to the glass.

Just as he is leaving the flat he receives a message from his PA Anthea, about Sherlock firing a gun into the walls at his flat. Calls about gunfire had been made to the police by neighbours, but Anthea has placed a few calls and stopped the armed police response that would normally be triggered by such reports. Mycroft sighs, he knows his brother is struggling, being in love with his "not gay" flatmate is taking its toll, but Sherlock really needs to learn to deal with his feelings without resorting to such ridiculous antics. Mycroft resigns himself to an awkward visit to Baker Street in the morning.

He messages Anthea to ask for a car to come and collect him, and for several important meetings in Whitehall to be put into the DI's office calendar for tomorrow which will show him to be out of contact with Scotland Yard all day.

He waits for the lift ruminating about how the two Holmes brothers have come to this, both in love with men who will forever be unable to return their feelings. This is why Mycroft repeatedly tells his younger brother that caring is not an advantage, it seems to be causing nothing but pain for either of them. At least he has the sense to distance himself from Gregory, normally only allowing himself to see the man once a month. It is easy to manufacture these meetings, sometimes a meeting to discuss a case the DI is working on which could intersect with government interests. Other times he will come to see Sherlock when he knows that Gregory will be nearby. On these occasions he limits himself to talking business or exchanging pleasantries. Anything more and he risks exposing the depths of his feelings for the man. He knows that these feelings will not be returned. Gregory is a married man, even if perhaps not for long. He is also not gay, and even if he were available and interested in men why would he want to be with someone like Mycroft? 

He is under no illusions about himself, despite trying to be strict with himself, his fondness for desserts leads to him carrying a little more weight than he would like, he works long hours, even longer than the DI, and is constantly on call. He prefers classical music, whilst he is fairly certain the DI prefers something more contemporary. Gregory likes to watch football and rugby whilst sports have never really appealed to him. He can not see anyway that their lives can fit together.   
Gregory on the other hand is an impressive man, strong and attractive. He is intelligent, loyal and compassionate with his friends and fiercely protective of them. The way that he helped Sherlock escape from the clutches of addiction all those years ago, eventually persuading him to attend the rehab clinic that Mycroft had arranged, had caught Mycroft's eye. His initial impressions of Gregory had been proved correct with every interaction. He is a very physical man, Mycroft has seen CCTV footage of him chasing suspects, and eventually catching them, pinning them to the wall with his strong arms. On one occasion being forced to sit astride a man on the floor to restrain him whilst waiting for backup, holding the criminal’s arms in place over his head. When he had witnessed this last spectacle Mycroft had been forced to retreat to the private bathroom attached to his office and delay his meeting with a government minister, lest he embarrass himself with the inconvenient erection that had appeared.

Mycroft reaches the garage under the apartment block and decides he has wasted enough time thinking about impossible things, he climbs into the car waiting for him, determined to put the matter out of his head until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did warn updates would be erratic, sorry :-)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after Greg's drinking session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo, I finally updated. Thanks for sticking around anyone who has been waiting for this, and welcome to any new readers.

Greg wakes up early the next day with a massive headache, he doesn't normally drink spirits and has the hangover to prove it. He uses the ensuite and stumbles back towards the bed. He spots the painkillers and water on the bedside cabinet and is immensely thankful to Mycroft for his foresight. He sits on the unmade bed to take the tablets and read the note that was next to the glass  


_Gregory_

_  
Please do not trouble yourself to go to work today. I have made arrangements so that you will not be missed._

_  
Make yourself at home here, I will try to visit with you again today as my schedule allows._

_  
You will find the kitchen fully stocked._

_  
M_

_  
_ Greg lays down on the bed again and considers that maybe Mycroft isn't so bad after all, but they are still going to have to talk about those cameras. His eyes are heavy and he soon succumbs to sleep again, the alcohol and a far too emotional day, on top of several weeks of stress worrying about his marriage causing him to feel totally exhausted.

  
He wakes again hours later to the smell of coffee and bacon. Checking his watch he sees that it is nearly 1pm. How had he slept so long? On sitting he realises that his hangover is gone, but he’s now feeling horribly embarrassed about the way that he had acted. He had cried in front of Mycroft, and allowed himself to be coddled like a small child. It is time to act his age. He gets up, still fully dressed from the previous evening, he may be a little rumpled but decides that he is presentable enough for whoever might be in the kitchen. A quick stop in the ensuite and then he goes to see who is in the flat this time.

  
Greg steps into the kitchen and stops in his tracks. Mycroft is cooking bacon, bread rolls ready on plates to receive the bacon once it is cooked, the coffee machine is halfway through making a cup, and there are glasses of orange juice on the kitchen table.

  
Mycroft is cooking. Mycroft is cooking bacon in his three piece suit and tie. Mycroft is cooking bacon in his suit with a bright red apron over the top. Greg blinks a few times then decides that this really is happening, he has not gone mad

 

"Um, thanks Myc. This looks great." He says. Did I really just call him Myc?

  
Mycroft pauses momentarily, warmth spreading through him at the way Gregory had shortened his name. No-one does that apart from his mother, and he hates it, but...from Gregory, it, well it sounds comfortable, intimate. He takes a second to compose himself, telling himself it doesn’t mean anything, anything at all. Some people just like to shorten names, Gregory is obviously one of them. He takes a deep breath then turns to face what turns out to be a far too enticing image of a sleep rumpled Greg, and saying "I trust you slept well Gregory."

  
"Oh, yeah, thanks." Greg replies, rubbing his neck. "I'm a bit embarrassed about the way I was acting yesterday, sorry."

  
"Not at all, entirely understandable." Mycroft says gesturing with his hand as if to wave Greg's comment away. "Unfortunately I have some bad news; the world moves apace I'm afraid. I have had several meetings this morning and it seems that the Russian President will need to make a visit to London, I have managed to put him off for today, insufferable man, but unfortunately he will be requiring the flat tomorrow night, so you will need to leave in the morning. I can of course assist you in finding alternative accommodation."

  
Greg stares at the man currently bringing bacon rolls and coffee to the table. He has put Greg up in a flat that is used by visiting presidents? It is certainly posh enough, but that is ridiculous. And putting him off just so Greg can stay for an extra night? He realises that Mycroft must be joking, and laughs, "Yeah, you nearly got me there, Russian President." He laughs again. "I get it though, you need me gone, don't worry I'll sort something out, you've already done enough. I'll have to go to work tomorrow so I'll be gone nice and early for you."

  
Mycroft looks at Greg, about to correct him, but then realised perhaps it is best if the man does believe it to be a joke. Instead he indicates a brown envelope in the middle of the table, "I have details of some very good divorce lawyers for you. Please do not worry about the expense, they all owe me several favours so just mention my name and you will get a most competitive price. It seems unlikely that I will ever have need to call in the favours for myself."

  
Greg has a mouthful of bacon so that gives him a good excuse not to reply to this, just nodding his head instead. He isn't sure what he should say, divorce lawyers seem so final, he hadn't even thought about that yet.

  
They finish their meal in silence, then Mycroft says, "I am very sorry Gregory, but I have several more meetings to attend that I cannot postpone. I will most likely not see you before you leave for work in the morning." He stands and moves towards the door.

  
Greg needs to thank the man so quickly replies "Thank you again Mycroft, you have been more than kind, especially after I practically attacked you yesterday."

  
Mycroft turns back and says "You’re very welcome Gregory. I would appreciate however if you didn’t mention any of this to anyone else, I do have an image to maintain after all."

  
"Oh, yeah, of course.” Greg hesitates, embarrassed to ask for anything more, he stumbles over his words a little as he asks, “Um, could I have a key? Just, I might go out this evening to see John and it would be good to be able to get back in."

  
Mycroft pulls a key out of his pocket, and then a second one to give access to the main door to the building, and places them on the table. "Just leave them at the front reception desk when you leave in the morning. Now I really must go, please call if you need anything." He turns and left the flat, he paused before he closed the front door, tempted to call out a farewell, but realises this would be ridiculous. He needs to reinstate the distance he keeps from the DI before he succumbs to his feelings and does something truly foolish.

 --~~--

Greg tidies the kitchen, washing up and drying the dishes and glasses that they have used. He ponders on a man who is too busy to do his own washing up, but had found time to spend a whole evening with him last night, and then come around and cook him a post hangover lunch today. He eventually settles on putting it all down to the man feeling that he owed Greg for helping Sherlock all those years ago, after all, that is what he had said.

 

He looks around the once again gleaming kitchen almost proudly, at least he has accomplished something today, even if it is just cleaning up after lunch. He gets his phone from where he had left it switched off yesterday when he came into the apartment. Switching it on he winces when he sees several voice mails left by Carol. Without listening to them he sends a text

  
_Carol, please don’t phone me again. I will be in touch soon. Please tell the kids I miss them._

  
After sending that he reconsiders and sends another.

  
_If you haven’t already told them that I have left, please don't. We should probably do it together. Just tell them I am working a big case and won't be home for a while._  


Then he texts John.

  
_Hi mate. Are you around tonight? I could really do with going to the pub. It's all gone to shit with Carol, could do with a chat._

  
Greg goes to have a shower and change into some fresh clothes, the ones he is wearing are definitely the worse for wear after being slept in the previous night and it is time to try behaving like a functioning adult again.  


Once clean and dressed he checks his phone again. Nothing from Carol, good, he doesn't want to hear from her. There is a message from John though.

  
_Yeah, meet at our usual, about 7 ok for you? Sorry to hear about Carol, talk more later._  


His phone beeps as he is reading this, a message from Sherlock  


_Lestrade, why are you not at Scotland Yard? I went to get some cold cases and was told you had meetings all day, at Whitehall, this is an obvious lie. Stop moping about your stupid wife, I told you she was cheating on you. John told me your marriage is over, so you should be happy to be free of her. SH_

  
Greg smiles at this, he should be offended, but of course Sherlock would make this all about him.  


Another beep sounds seconds later.  


_John has told me I have to apologise for being rude. Apparently you have every right to take some time when your life is over. Also I have to inform you that John did not tell me your marriage is over, I deduced it from his reaction to your text. SH_  


He smiles a little at the first sentence, but his heart drops at the part about his life being over. God, that is what it feels like.  


Another beep.  


_John read my text. He says that he did not say your life is over, he said it feels like your life is over. This is an important distinction apparently. I offered to come this evening to help in your hour of need, but John informs me that I am not allowed to come. SH_  
Greg cannot help giggling a little now, imagining the outraged way John must be berating his flatmate for misquoting him.

  
Yet another beep, this time from John.

  
_Sorry about him Greg. I have confiscated his phone. See you later._  
  


Greg giggles a little more and smiles fondly as he imagines the scene at Baker Street. Sherlock is probably pouting and moaning about John taking his phone whilst being oblivious about what he had done wrong, whilst John was probably trying to stop himself from strangling the man.

  
Maybe his life isn't over, he still has friends, and a good job, and if he can play it right maybe he can keep the kids on side too. John is a very good friend, and Sherlock is too despite being selfish, childish, insulting and arrogant, Greg knows that if it came down to it he could count on both of them to come through for him. He also had Donovan, not exactly a friend, but a close acquaintance, and it seems like maybe Mycroft could be counted on in a pinch, although he has a feeling he might have used up his favours with the government official.

  
He has several hours before he is due to meet John, so he settles down to search on his phone for a hotel to check into tomorrow for a few nights, and for flats to rent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, I don't know when this will update, but I absolutely promise it will be finished.
> 
> If you enjoyed this chapter maybe leave me a comment? (I really love comments).

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like the start of this story, hopefully now I will feel more motivated to actually finish it.


End file.
